Rising
by of untold secrets
Summary: Sequel to Fallen. For the Flock, everything's great. Itex is destroyed, they have a place to stay, and best of all, they have each other. Everything is great...Or is it? Because what goes up must come down, and the higher you are, the farther you'll fall. DISCONTINUED
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: But as you know, what goes up must go down. And Itex thinks that the Flock has been going up for long enough.**** As all of this is going on, something else is awakening. Something dark. Something hungry. Something who longs for revenge. **

**(Update: Yes, I realize that this is a different summary that the one on the story, but this one won't fit. So I put the other one in instead :))**

**It's a sequel! -cheers-**

**Hopefully, it would be better than the others. Hopefully.**

**Anyway, on with the first chapter...**

Fang POV

Dr. Martinez hung up a sheet of paper on the wall while the Flock crowded around her, craning their necks to read the words. Sighs and groans soon filled the room.

Three days before, Dr. M decided that, as long as we're going to stay under her roof, there should be a set of rules governing what we should and shouldn't do. _Should_ being the operative word.

Of course, this decision was not very popular among us Flock members, but we had reluctantly agreed. We weren't completely uncivilized.

But, as I had said before, _should_ was the operative word in this sentence. Maybe the rules were up to control the Flock's actions, but that doesn't mean that we were going to follow them.

I scanned the sheet.

Rules for the Flock

_Clean up after yourselves. (I__ do not want to see half-eaten food strewn all over the place the moment I walk into your room!)_

I smirked. Half-eaten food? With our appetites, there is no such thing.

_No terrorizing locals. Ever. Even if they do look suspiciously like that one Eraser you've seen five months ago._

Max adopted a _who, me? _expression on her face.

_3. __No detonating 'experimental' bombs. (This means you, Iggy and Gazzy!)_

"What?" Gazzy cried, and Iggy looked upset as well.

Max shot them a look, and Gazzy quieted instantly.

Iggy was the strange case in our Flock. Although he's still not completely trusting of the rest of the Flock, he's improving.

Not talking at all is turning into mumbled words at the dinner table. Locking himself in a room all day has turned into being with the Flock. Heck, he was even starting to build bombs again.

I think what's really convinced him that the Flock really does care about him was making the explosives with Gazzy. Gazzy, who's taken it upon himself to give Iggy the chance to do things himself. Gazzy, who knows when to give him his distance and when to play. Gazzy, who seems to have grown so much in the last few weeks.

Now, Iggy isn't exactly what he used to be, but he's getting there.

_4. Please be polite and watch your language. Notice that we have a few quite a few younger people in this __house, and respect their age._

Ha. That's a joke. The younger members of this house do basically 60% of the swearing in the house.

_5.__ We have three bathrooms in the house. We have eight people. Most of us do not have the time to wait half an hour for you to fix your hair in the morning—use the washrooms as quickly as possible._

"Oh! So I'm not a member of this household?" Total fumed from his position on the floor.

_6. As long as you are living in this house, you are entitled to help with chores.__ Work you might find yourself doing soon include: sweeping, the laundry, dish washing, general picking-things-up, table setting, lawn mowing, and raking leaves._

_7. As much as you may wish it so, there is not and endless supply of cookies and other snacks in the cupboards. Please refrain from eating seven boxes of __Oreos in one day. This means you, Fang._

What?..."It was just once!" I defended myself, "And Iggy helped!"

_8. __Total, just because you get to sit at the dinner table and eat out food does not give you the right to tease Magnolia._

"But…but…" Total started, then sighed heavily and slumped down onto the floor.

_9. __Max and Fang, as much as I appreciate your love, please show your affections for one another behind a closed door, not on the couch. Please._

Iggy sniggered, while Max blushed and looked at the floor.

It had only been a couple of weeks since the Flock and I rescued Max and destroyed the Itex facility. The memory of Max's death still haunted my mind, and I wanted to make every minute with her count.

And we weren't _that_ noticeable, right?

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Angel smirk and shake her head.

_Angel! Get out of my head!_

She just smiled.

_10. Obey the rules on this list._

"So that's it?" Nudge asked.

"Seems so," Max replied, peering at the paper.

Faster than you can blink, the room cleared.

Dr. M just sighed.

"Want to go upstairs?" I asked Max, "I have a new blog post I've got post."

"Sure."

"Remember rule number nine!" Dr. M called as we sped up the staircase.

"Yes, mom," Max muttered under her breath.

Once we got to the room I was sharing with Iggy and Gazzy, Max flopped onto my bed as I closed the door and went over to the desk next to the window.

"Off the bed," I said, smiling to show that I was only joking, "you're rumpling the sheets."

As a response, Max only wriggled more. Suddenly, she sat up.

"What are you posting?"

"Oh, just the usual. And a few details about our recent adventure."

"Adventure. Ha." Max pushed a few wisps of hair out of her face. "You call getting captured and nearly killed an adventure?"

I smirked. "Well, we got out of it alive. That must mean something, right?"

"Yeah. That we have incredible luck."

The laptop had turned on by now, so I turned and started typing.

Just as I clicked the 'post' button, the computer beeped.

"A_nother_ comment?" Max asked, swinging her legs so that she sat at the edge of the bed, looking at the laptop screen. "From which of your million and one fangirls is it from this time?"

I just shrugged, as I clicked the link. Fangirls were fangirls. They were nothing compared to Max.

**Anonymous from ****Colorado says:**

**You are a g****roup of killers, murderers. You have set off a chain of events from where there is no going back. You deserve to die, and you will. Soon. **

"Whoa," Max breathed as she read over my shoulder. "Someone must really hate us."

I shrugged. "Nah. We get hate mail on a weekly basis—don't be worried." I replied, closing the window.

"I'm not worried!"

There are about as many people who hate us as there are people who like us-mostly religious people-who think we are horrible freaks of nature. So neither Max nor I gave the comment a second thought.

Later, we would think back on this and wish we had.

**Review?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks to emotionalpoemgirl and Bluejaygrl for reviewing!**

Unknown POV

Deep beneath the earth, something stirred.

Well, it wasn't quite fair to call it a _something_. Rather, it was many things, each in a form as complex and intricate as the next.

But still, it wasn't quite a _something_. It wasn't here, and yet…it was. It was not material. It was not alive.

It simply existed.

It had been sleeping for a very long time. A very, very long time. Ever since a time so far back, even its ancient memory could only evoke dim recollections.

It had slumbered under the ground for so long, it had almost forgotten what it was like to live—although live was perhaps not the right term for its existence. It had been asleep for so long, its conscious had almost forgotten how to climb back out of the dark nothingness of hibernation, back to being.

But now it was awake.

Awakened from a huge explosion that shook the ground, that disturbed its lair. Awakened to a young new world, so very different to the one it was accustomed to.

So very different, and yet so alike in many ways.

The thing was hungry, now, thinking of the world it had left behind all those centuries ago.

It was hungry for revenge.

It wanted back the world that had been taken away from it. Even more, it wanted back the body, the _life_, that been torn away from it.

The thing tried to get up, to lift itself from the heavy ground, but it was still too weak from its long sleep. It settled back into the place where it had dwelled for so long.

Patience. It had waited for thousands of years, it could wait for a little longer, or at least until it regained its strength.

Impatience had cost it its freedom, but no more. It was clever now. Clever enough to bide its time for the right moment to pounce on the yet ignorant and unsuspecting world.

It rested…and planned.

Its plan will work out, in time. The right moment will present itself, in time.

All in good time.

**Yes, it's short and confusing...**

**Review?**


	3. Chapter 3

**There goes my staying-ahead-of-my-updates plan. Back to writing the chapters day by day...Oh, well.**

**Thanks to JessicaJayJackson for reviewing!**

Max POV

Okay, this was official: my mom makes the best food in the world.

I breathed in the scent of fresh homemade chocolate chip cookies greedily, as if it would make the cookies last longer.

It didn't.

"Cookies!" Angel cried, grabbing one from the plate that my mom had just set before us.

"Careful, they're hot," I warned, snatching a couple myself, and blowing on them to cool them down.

Mmm…

Flour, butter, sugar, and lots and lots of chocolate chips. _That_ is what makes a delicious chocolate chip cookie.

"Hmph," Total sulked in a corner, "who said that dogs can't have chocolate? Who?"

All too soon, the cookies disappeared. Well, okay. They weren't completely gone. Mom decided to store the rest of the cookies in a jar, saying that we'd had enough. Soon, everyone left to do whatever they did during this time of day, and only Ella and I were left.

It was after dinner, and the stars were just beginning to glimmer among the sea of blue-black. I stared outside, transfixed by the beauty of the night when my attention was suddenly drawn to the framed photo that hung beside the window.

It was of a man, wearing a Christmas-themed wool sweater and laughing in a way not many of us ever laugh—truly happy. He was skinny, but not overly so, and had a mop of dark brown hair. He looked familiar somehow.

"Who's that?" I asked Ella, pointing.

"Oh, that," she said, looking slightly sad, "that's my dad."

The topic of her dad has always been a touchy subject. But, as you know, curiosity killed the cat. Or, rather, bird. "Has he passed away?" I blurted out. I regretted the question the moment it passed my lips.

Ella's expression was fierce. "No! He has not died. Dad's just…gone. He couldn't have died." She added quietly, worry and doubt etched her face.

I backtracked quickly. "Of course not. I was just wondering."

She softened. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be so snappy. It's just that I'm worried…he's been missing for over a year now. Mom had talked to the police, but nothing's turned up…they say that the chances of him returning gets slimmer every day...I'm so worried."

I hugged her. "Don't worry. Everything's going to turn out fine in the end, you'll see."

I hoped I wasn't giving her a false hope. There really _wasn't_ much of a chance of her Dad coming back…

But I made a mental note to look for him, all the same.

A voice cut through my thoughts. "Max? Want to go flying?" Fang asked quietly, standing in the doorway.

I looked at Ella and she smiled as she shoved me to my feet. "Go, have fun with your boyfriend."

Boyfriend? Was Fang and I…well, I suppose so. Not that I was going to admit that any time soon.

The air was fresh this time of day, clean and cool. There was a gentle breeze playing through the trees below, and starlight bathed everything in a silvery mist.

Fang and I leaped from the open window, flaring out our wings and soaring upwards just before we would have hit the ground.

Did I ever tell you have wonderful it was to fly?

Up and up we flew, until houses below were merely specks and streets were just lines criss-crossing the ground. Until the moon seemed close enough to touch and the wind bit through my light jacket. Until it seemed like there was no other in the world except for Fang.

I smiled at Fang, who smiled back. Up here, where the wind ruffled hair and rumpled clothing, where you can laugh all you want and have nobody know, where you can be crazy or serious or just yourself and nobody can judge—this was his home. This was where he loved being the most.

And because he loved it, I loved it too.

But nowhere would be home without Fang. I still don't remember—and probably never will—why I had committed suicide all those weeks back. Maybe because I wanted to protect the Flock. Maybe because I wanted to protect _him_. And maybe I don't want to know.

But it must have been a good reason. I couldn't imagine a world without Fang, without my Flock. Couldn't imagine living if they weren't right there with me.

But every once in a while, I look at Fang's face and know that he feels the same way. That he wants me beside him just as much as I do, that he wouldn't ever let go.

And I feel thankful that I have him, and not some random, blond-haired, Justin Beiber wannabe, for instance.

I looked at him and saw him staring up at the half moon.

"Don't you ever wonder why the night has a thousand different points of light, and the day only one? Actually the daytime has stars too, except they are all blotted out by one—the sun."

"And where, pray tell, did you find that piece of information?" I asked.

He turned towards me. "On the internet. It has everything, I'm telling you."

"Well, I find the night time much safer. It has a million stars to watch after you."

Fang smirked. "Getting poetic, are we? Next thing we know, you'll be walking around holding some dead dude's skull and quoting Shakespeare."

I growled. "You better run!"

By the time we climbed back into the house late into the night, we were laughing (or at least I was—Fang had some kind half-smile and was chuckling softly whenever he thought I couldn't hear him, which was good enough for me), faces flushed from the chilly fall air.

I yawned. "Well, time for bed. Otherwise, Mom'll kill me." I paused, "Okay, maybe I'll eat just one more cookie."

Fang sighed. "Knowing you, you'd probably eat the whole jar. You're addicted to those things."

What? "No way!" I countered, "I'll eat only one—promise!" I started down the hallway towards the kitchen. I was _not_ addicted. Well, not much.

It was late into the night, and everyone was already in bed. Both my footsteps and Fang's could be heard distinctly throughout the whole house.

Sticking my hand into the cookie jar, I took one chocolate chip cookie out. "See?" I said, turning to Fang and biting into the cookie, "I can limit myself."

I looked towards the window that Fang was standing in front of.

Or, at least the window that he _should _have been in front of.

He wasn't there.

However, what _was_ there was enough to make me scream. But call it restraint, call it habit, but I didn't.

But I very much could have.

Floating outside, framed perfectly by the window, was Fang's head.

Except it was not. It was twisted and rotten-looking, with flesh drooping and eyes sunken. Matted dirty hair hung around his face, and sunken dull eyes stared accusingly at me. The skin was a sallow, blackened in parts, and blistered—at least what skin I could see. Most of it was torn off, leaving bloody tears in what should have been parts of his face.

Fang should have looked hideous—except he wasn't. I could see the beauty behind the disfigured face, could sense it. Could sense the kindness and caring and beauty behind the terrible sight.

And that was the worst part.

The knowledge that I didn't deserve him, that I would never, ever, be anywhere near good enough for such a person. He was perfect, perfect in all aspects, and…he cared for me.

He shouldn't like me…he shouldn't even care…

And then he opened his mouth.

"Why did you kill me, Max?" Fang asked, infinite hurt and betrayal evident in his voice. "What have I ever done to you?"

This couldn't be real…this shouldn't be real. It must be a…hallucination, yeah, that's it. A hallucination from lack of sugar.

My eyes didn't believe me.

I sank down to my knees, sobs caught at the back of my throat, eyes unable to rip themselves from the sight.

And then he was gone, somehow just disappeared.

Only to be replaced by something else.

The huge Eraser's black furry head turned to face me, its red eyes glowing hatred.

It grinned at me, a menacing smile that stretched horribly across it face.

"Ah, Max," it hissed, wicked teeth flashing in the light with every word, "When will you ever learn? Everything you do will only harm everyone around you. Every tragedy that is to come can and will be your fault-your mistakes will cost the world. You are not destined to save the world.

You will destroy it."

**There. A longer and (hopefully) less confusing chapter. (****Go random Fax moments!)**

**Review?**


	4. Chapter 4

**-insert deep, sincere apologies about not updating ****because of homework and lack of inspiration here-**

**Sorry, sorry, sorry!**

**And thanks to:**

**-Bluejaygrl98**

**-emotionalpeomgirl**

**-AmyQueen95**

**for reviewing!**

**...**

**And now, I realized that I've forgotten to put in a disclaimer at the beginning of the story. Oops.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Maximum Ride. There-short, sweet, and hopefully clear…**

**Now, finally, o****n with the chapter…**

* * *

_Wide awake in the middle of your nightmare,  
you saw it comin' but it hit you outta nowhere,  
And there's always __scars  
__when you fall that far…_

_- Get Back Up, _by _Toby Mac _

* * *

Max POV

"Max! Wake up!" I could feel someone gently pushing me.

Max? Who was Max? Who was I?

Fang…

Was my name Fang?

No, wait. That was someone else.

Maybe I was Max?

Fang…Max…the Flock…

Suddenly, everything rushed back.

Opening my eyes took far more energy than what it should take, but I managed to do it all the same. I blinked blearily, watching as fuzzy figures slowly swam into focus.

"Ahh!"

I leapt up, jumping backwards. "Fang…you're alive…"

Fang rolled his eyes. "Of course I'm alive. How are you?" The rest of the Flock looked worriedly at me.

"I'm...fine," I said, hoping to calm them down, "just give me a minute."

I rubbed my eyes, and the figures from yesterday (or was it today?...) lept before my eyes. It took all the self control and mind-blocking skills I had to not scream out loud. There was no point in worrying the Flock. Telling them everything was definately out of the question.

I closed my eyes again, hoping to think of some reasonable excuse and to lesson the pounding in my head. A mutilated Fang stared out, brokenly, at me from behind closed eyelids. I snapped my eyes open and shook my head, trying in vain to push the image out of my head.

The Flock looked at me as if I were crazy. Which I admittedly might actually be.

The figures I had seen outside the mundow _must _have been an illusion, or some weird dream. What else could they be? There _has_ to be some kind of logical explanation for it. It wasn't real, nothing they said was true. Not in the slightest.

Right?

* * *

Fang POV

I'm worried for Max.

First, she passes out in the middle of the kitchen while I was away getting a drink of water.

Then she's delusional, claiming that I was dead.

Now, she all tense and jumpy. She flinches at any unexpected sound, haunted eyes often staring at me for far longer than what is necessary.

What's going on?

Determined to get to the bottom of this, I went over to where she was sitting on the edge of the couch, and purposely sat beside her with a loud plop. Max jumped, then, seeing me, calmed back down (if you call being as twitchy as a hyperactive squirrel 'calmed').

I cut to the chase. "Max, what's going on?" See how easy it is with me? No beating around the bush here.

Max pretended to not know what I'm talking about. "What's going on?" she asked, eyes fixed squarely on me. Oh yeah, Max was the queen of lies.

"…This." I gestured with my hands.

"You just pointed at all of me."

I groaned—this was not going to be as easy as I had hoped.

"Exactly. You're so jumpy and...acting weird," I decided to not use 'scared', the primary reason being that, acting weird or not, she would beat me up. Happily. "You're not yourself. What happened last night?"

"Nothing. I just passed out. So?" she rolled her eyes, in a last futile attempt at tricking me into thinking everything was okay.

"So? So, I'm worried about you! People just don't drop down unconscious for no reason. What _really_ happened?"

Max glared at me, sudden fury in her eyes. "I told you! Nothing happened. I was looking out the window and I thought I saw a bunch of Flyboys with Jeb. I must have overreacted and fainted, that's all."

She stood up and strode away into the direction of the room she was sharing with Angel and Nudge.

…

This was really serious. Because I knew that Max was lying, I could see the fear in her eyes. Because, out of all of us, Max would _never_ faint. Because something had happened last night that had really scared her.

I could feel the Flock's eyes on me, scared at Max's outburst. Looking up, I nodded to them.

_Don't worry, _the nod said_, I'll fix this._

I hope I wasn't lying.

I got up from the couch, surprised at how reluctant my body seemed with this.

Actually, my whole being was reluctant. Life was so perfect at Dr. M's, and then _this_ comes along. Couldn't the Flock have a solid month of stress-free time?

Apparently not.

Life was so perfect before, and now we may or may not have a major emergency on our hands. And I have the responsibility of fixing it. Cue groaning and mental stressing-out.

Okay, so it was a self-imposed responsibility. But still.

I had to take on the responsibility. I was considered second-in-command…I had to make things look as if everything was under control. I had to help Max, somehow.

And I felt guilty. What if I hadn't gone for that drink of water? Then everything would probably have been fine, and we wouldn't have to worry about this.

Grr. Sometimes (okay, a lot of the time), our life seems so frustrating.

Suddenly, I stood up and walked to the kitchen window, looking out of it as Max had claimed to do.

Hmm…I couldn't see anything. I could see a large window with a white wooden edge, window blinds (currently all folded up), and darkness outside—it was still a little before dawn…none of the Flock has managed to sleep much, although Dr. M seemed to have snoozed right through everything.

I leaned a little closer.

Maybe Max had actually seen a reflection, or some other trick of light? We've definitely seen enough nightmares in our life to not have any problems imagining any.

Still nothing.

I frowned, and was about to pull away and ask Angel for help or something, when the window exploded.

**Review? **


	5. Chapter 5

**Slow(ish) updating, as usual.**

**Here's a random question of the day for you: How many of you guys were chanting 'Fight! Fight! Fight!' at the end of the book, Breaking Dawn? Am I really the the only one...?**

**Anyway, thanks to the awesome people who read and review this story!**

Third person POV

[One week ago]

The young whitecoat trudged past the mounds of destruction that was all that remained of the once-proud Itex facility.

This wasn't what he had signed up for Itex to do, he grumbled to himself.

He hadn't signed up to play tourist for a destroyed building. He hadn't signed up to put his life on the line to satisfy the curiosity of his superiers-superiers who, at the moment, were all nice and snug in their respective offices. He hadn't signed up to check for radiation level in the ruins of some place which had been almost destroyed by a make-shift bomb from a group of rowdy kids.

But here he was.

Checking radiation levels.

The whitecoat shivered, and pulled the coat tighter to his small frame, as if the material could protect him from any possible harm. Which, considering Itex, was a distinct possibility. He held the device towards the ground, pressed a series of buttons, and waited nervously.

He sighed in relief. The numbers were perfectly normal for his surroundings. Whatever the kids had put into the bomb, the remains of it wasn't emmitting anything harmful, at least.

But it had leveled a whole building, which was an amazimg feat for a bunch of kids.

Wait...

Huh?

The man blinked and leaned closer, peering at the device. The numbers on it had started jumping around, even though they should have leveled off. What was with this thing?

But the numbers jumped around in a pattern. Up, down, up, down. Like a pulse, almost.

Although he may not seem so, the whitecoat hadn't been hired by Itex for nothing. He hid a quick mind behind the naive face.

And something was telling him that something was going on here.

_It has been so long..._

The whitecoat jumped. What was that he heard? No, nothing. He couldn't have heard anything.

_I've been waiting for so long..._

There it was again. The same ancient, deep tones that seemed to that seemed to speak of unthinkable age and knowledge. As if the earth itself was speaking to him.

A lonely Earth. A dark and vengeful Earth, the part that had resided in the hot centre, perhaps?

_And now, my time will soon come..._

The whitecoat stood there, as if paralyzed, sweat pouring off him. What was happening?

Was he just imagining things?

The voice was so tempting, tempting him to dig beneath the soil with his own two hands to greet this...whatever it was. But he was afraid of what he would find there. An angel of wonder, trapped beneath the ground, or a darkly vengeful demon?

_Be afraid, little insect, for you have wronged me so much. Be very afraid..._

An angel of destruction, perhaps?

He couldn't move, ot that he wanted to. The voice was calling out to him, luring him...He needed to find the source...

_Clatter!_

Somewhere, somehow, rocks tumbled from one of the piles of rubble, breaking the heavy silence.

The whitecoat snapped out of his trance.

Then he ran at a speed in which he hadn't moved since highschool. Fast. Faster. Anything to get away from that voice.

That sound...it stuck to his skin like a film, tugging at his thoughts, refusing to go away. He felt dirty.

He had no idea what had just happened.

But he knew two things.

One; he wasn't going anywhere near this place again. Ever.

And two; the information he collected with his device must be enough for a promotion. For a desk job, perhaps. The scientist smiled grimly as he tucked the radiation device inside his coat.

Because he had no intention of being a field researcher ever again.

Dealing with disembodied voices from beneath the ground was not what he had signed up for Itex to do.

* * *

Detached brown eyes stared at the retreating figure of a still-young whitecoat. No one would have guessed at the depth of rage and anger behind them.

But for now, the rage had taken a back-seat position in favour for a new emotion.

Cool and calculating.

The news the whitecoat brought were interesting. Very interesting.

White-hot anger was all the man had felt since childhood. Anger, a sense of abandonment, and beneath all of that, a profound feeling of loneliness. But mostly anger.

But as of now, the anger had been supressed.

Cool and calculating. That was Mr. Martinez's reputation. He was the one who never lost his head, the one who could order men to their deaths without so much as batting an eye, if it would help to further himself and the company. That was how he became the Directer.

But when the Flock had blown up his Itex facility, he was very, very close to losing his cold-demeaner. After all, it was _his_ Itex branch, one that he had nurtured to bloom from the very beginning. The one he had put all his energies into for the past too many years. _His_ branch of the company.

He had been very close.

Was he being punished for loving what he had helped to create?

Maybe he was, but the others will be punished tenfold for his pains.

An eye for an eye. Pain for pain.

Unfortunantely for him, the bird-kids had escaped from the ruins of his building, alive. That would prove to be a bit of a drawback in his plans.

But nothing lasts forever, especially when it concerns the lives of a certain six bird-kids. He will have his revenge on them, one way or another. Revenge on them, and the pathetic girl who he refused to call his sister.

Revenge had fueled his actions, had coloured his thoughts for so long, he almost welcomed the change in emotions. Almost.

And this development was a change, indeed.

Oh, yes. He knew what the whitecoat had seen (or more accurately, heard). Just as he had known what the young, ambitious whitecoat had really been after when he had presented Mr. Martinez the data.

Nothing escaped his notice.

(except for those...stupid...mutants...)

He knows what the thing was. He knows.

And he has a plan.

Mr. Martinez smiled for the first time in weeks. It was merely a slight twitch of thinly-pressed lips, but still.

It will be very interesting to see how this will play out...

**Reviews = love :)**


	6. Chapter 6

****

**Here's a longer-ish chapter to make up for my crappy updating...**

* * *

_If I could fall into the sky_

_Do you think time will pass me by?_

_'Cause you know I'd walk a thousand miles_

_Just to see you_

_Tonight._

_- _Thousand Miles_, Vanessa Carlton_

* * *

Fang POV

Tell me, how many of you readers have had windows explode in your faces? It's not a nice experience, not something you should try at home. Just FYI.

Now tell me, how many of you have had huge Flyboys burst through the aforementioned shattered window and leap onto you?

I jumped backwards, more out of habit than anything else. It had taken me a second to realize that the kitchen window I had been peering out of no longer existed, and another second to notice the big lump of snarling Eraser wannabee eyeing me.

Oh, and there were more Flyboys pouring in, but the rest of the Flock (how fast did they get here?) seemed to be taking care of them pretty well.

And there was Max, right in the thick of things, knocking out Flyboys like a whirlwind, blond-streaked hair flapping as she took on three Flyboys at once. I was glad to see that her earlier strange behaviour didn't do anything to her fighting prowess—if anything, she was even more ruthless than before.

The Eraser in front of me shifted, and I brought my attention back to it.

"So you want a piece of me?" I taunted, getting ready to fight.

Oops. Wrong words to say.

Suddenly, the Flyboy leapt, teeth aimed for my neck. I brought my arm up to protect myself, and bit back a cry of pain as its teeth ripped through skin and flesh, and broke bone.

Red haze edging in my eyesight, I swung my leg around and hit it in the ribcage as hard as I could. It fell back, blinking dumbly.

"Didn't the whitecoats feed you enough?" I muttered, hissing through clenched teeth, "Find your own bone somewhere else!"

The Flyboy tried to get up, but I just kicked it in the side, and then in the side of the head. It stayed down.

It was as if someone had flipped a switch.

All the Flyboys in the room froze, then dissapeared back out the window to…wherever they came from. Even the one I was sure I had knocked out climbed through the broked window painfully, as if we were dripping poison.

Stunned silence filled the room.

I looked up, clutching my broken and bloody arm, and surveyed the scene of what was only a few minutes ago a normal kitchen.

Now, it looked more like the site of one of Iggy and Gazzy's experimental bombs.

Tables, chairs, and just about everything not nailed down were overturned and scattered throughout the room. There was blood streaking the walls, and all over the countertops, and ripped out fur was everywhere. Scratches ran along the walls, as were bumps and dents.

The Flock, on the other hand, looked relatively unharmed, and were picking themselves up in various corners of the room.

"What just happened?" Nudge asked, rubbing her cheek where a huge bruise was forming.

Gazzy looked around wide-eyed. "Was it just me, or did the Flyboys actually _run away_? I mean, I know we're good, but they never do that."

Max nodded, still looking grim from the fight. "I know. And it's not just their retreat tactics that are different. It's like they changed their whole strategy. This time, they're using their teeth a whole lot more. Are they hungry or something? But it was Itex behind this, that's for sure." She looked troubled.

"Who's idea was it to go through a window? Couldn't they at least pay for damages before leaving? How rude," Iggy sniffed. Cue nervous laughter all around.

I cracked a smile, then flinched as glass cuts all over my face broke open. Max quickly looked over me.

"Fang! What happened to your arm?" she cried. Max grabbed a few towels from a drawer that was crookedly hanging open, then reached over to press in against me arm. Without meaning to, I hissed through my teeth.

"It's nothing," I said, trying to look reassuring—but probably failing. "It's just a Flyboy bite. Nothing new."

"Nothing new!" Max growled as she dabbed at my arm and pushed me to a sitting position on the now extremely scuffed floor. "You get your arm pouring out rivers of blood and it's 'nothing'? Nudge and Angel!" she said over her shoulder, "get the first-aid kit and a bowl of water. And Iggy, Gazzy, and Total, you guys can start cleaning the kitchen up before Mom wakes up and finds out."

I almost laughed at their faces. Cleaning up after our fights aren't something the Flock is used to.

Usually, it's just: see bad guys. See Flock kicking baddies' butts. See Flock fly away as fast as they can.

See? No cleaning involved. But since we're in Dr. M's house, I guess we should at least clean up after ourselves.

But I was almost glad to be 'poor, injured Flock member' at the moment. Not because I probably didn't need to help with the cleanup (really, I wouldn't mind), but Max was so close, I could probably just lean out and kiss her…

Okay. I've got to control the hormones. Concentrate on her hands instead, gently washing the blood away from my arm…Now look up, slowly…

And see huge spots darkening on her shirt.

"You okay, Fang?" Max asked, concerned. She squeezed red-tinged water from the already hopelessly-stained towel.

I just grabbed the fringe of her shirt with my good right hand, and tugged it upwards, revealing a neat row of long slices in her side, oozing blood. The shortest of them was about the length of my hand, and I could tell it that the cuts weren't shallow.

Quickly, Max pulled her T-shirt back down, wincing slightly as she was doing so. "What was that for?" she snapped.

"You're hurt," I said simply. I tried to sit up straighter and reached for the bandages, but Max pushed me back down.

"Careful. You'll mess up your arm even more. And they're better than they look. _You're_ the one needing medical attention." She started dressing my arm, wrapping it up neatly in gauze. I could tell she was trying not to move her side too much.

"Why don't you let Dr. M look after me?" I suggested, "Then you can take care of your self."

"Are you saying that you don't trust my medical skills?"

"No, it's—"

"Nah, I was kidding. I'm just worried about what Mom'll say when she finds this in the morning. I mean, we basically totalled her kitchen…it's a wonder that she hasn't woken up to all this noise already."

Max finished tying the last knot of the bandage, and got up. "Do you think you can walk?" she asked, helping me up onto my feet.

I rolled my eyes. "Of course. My feet are fine, see?"

I took a step, wobbled, and then almost fell only to be lifted up and carried by Max.

"Hey! I don't need help!" I protested. "Where are you going?"

"To your bedroom, of course. You're on the verge of falling asleep."

"But…"

"But nothing. You're going whether you want to or not."

I chuckled. Now _this_ was Max. Not the nervous, jumpy bird-kid that was sitting on the couch only an hour earlier.

And come to think of it, I did feel sleepy. I couldn't seem to keep my eyes open.

"Aww…they look so cute together…" A voice, probably Iggy's, snickered to my left. I made a mental note to kill him after.

But, for the moment, I resigned myself to the humiliation of getting carried to bed—by Max, of all people. After all, there wasn't much else I could do.

Swiftly, darkness carried me off on silent wings.

* * *

Max POV

I walked back downstairs, trying to maintain a 'cool, calm, and collected' appearance.

But really? I was seething in anger.

How dare Itex attack the Flock in_ our_ home?

I mean, I knew that to believe that Gazzy's bomb have ended our troubles with Itex once and for all would just be wishful thinking on our part, but really? So soon? At least give it a few months to make the usual evil-scientist-taking-over-the-world plots.

They just never stop, do they?

Then again, Mr. Martinez, from what I had heard of him from the rest of the Flock, didn't strike me as someone who'd just give up. to me, he seemed to be an all-or-nothing guy.

A very smart all-or-nothing guy.

There must have been an ulterior in this seemingly random attack, and I was almost positive that he had something to do with it. Knowing him, it was probably just the tip of an iceberg.

My shirt pulled at my still scabbing-over wounds painfully, and jerked me out of my haze. I grimaced. The good news was that it was scabbing over, which means less blood loss. The bad news was that the drying blood was soaked into my shirt and effectively gluing the cloth into place, which meant that every movement hurt. A lot.

But it can't be any worse than what Fang was experiencing, and thinking about that brought the anger back.

How dare they?

Finally, I turned into the door that lead to the kitchen, and surveyed what the Flock had managed to clean up so far. Which wasn't much.

They had been able to right most of the tables and chairs (except for one, who had its legs bent and broken and was currently lying down on its side). Cupboards and drawers were closed, kitchen knives cleaned and returned to their respective holders. The floor was tiled, which was good as it meant that wiping the blood off of it would be pretty easy, but the walls would be harder. And there were still plenty of scratches, scuffs, dents, holes, and broken kitchenware that can't be fixed.

Not by us, in any case.

I frowned. Even working as the Flock were working now, we couldn't possibly clean up everything to bring back the kitchen to what it was.

Darn Flyboys, making our lives so much harder...

There will be some awkward questions asked tomorrow at breakfast time.

**Review?**


	7. Chapter 7

****

**Thanks go to emotionalpoemgirl, who's reviewed every chapter of this story!**

**I have prepared a long, boring A/N about why I haven't been updating as often lately, but you probably don't want to hear about that...so here it is. The next chapter.**

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_Blackbird singing in the dead of night  
Take these broken wings and learn to fly  
All your life  
You were only waiting for this moment to arise_

**_- _**Blackbird_, by the Beatles_**_

* * *

_**

Max POV

"So...You're saying that, during the night, a group of giant wolf-men burst through this window and attacked you? And that they left immediately afterward?" Mom asked, eyebrow raised.

Well, if you put it like that..."Yes."

She sighed. "Where's Fang? Is he all right?"

We went upstairs, and Mom looked over the still form under the sheets.

Fang lay, sleeping, on his side, cradling his arm in a way he would never in real life. He looked so...young when he was asleep. Younger. As if he wasn't on the run from mad scientists or Flyboys. He looked almost...normal.

I wasn't yet sure whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Mom checked the bandaging, and nodded.

"You did a good job of cleaning the wound and bandaging it up. You'd make a great doctor." she said the last prt so softly, I wasn't positive if I heard it right.

"Me? Doctor? Nah." I replied, shaking my head and smiling.

But really? I had no wish to be a doctor. For doctors to succeed, there must be a steady stream of sickly, injured, or dying people. I'd rather there be none of those, and no doctors.

And being experimented on be whitecoats kind of destroyed any chance of doctoring and science in my future.

"He should be fine," Mom said, closing Fang's door after her. "Does...this kind of thing...happen often?"

"Well, it happens often enough." My injured side twinged with pain, as if agreeing.

We walked back to the scene of the battle in a kind of uneasy silence, with me wondering if I had scared her too much, and my mom thinking...whatever she was thinking.

Returning to the kitchen, we were met by the rest of the Flock, looking worried.

"Well? How is he?" Total demanded, sitting up. "Max wouldn't let us get anywhere near him door for the last who-knows-how-long. I mean, we're not that-"

"He's fine," I interrupted. Since when did he become such a Nudge? "Mom says that he'll be completely healed within the week."

Relief on everyone's faces.

Iggy frowned. "Well, what are we going to do about this attack? Do we just let Itex get away with it?"

My mom, sensing that this was something that was to be discussed as a Flock, moved away and began arranging the forks and spoons that one of us had thrown haphazardly into the drawer.

I leaned against the doorframe. "Of course not. But we're not going after them right away. Not so soon after the battle." Not when one of us was injured so badly. They nodded, as if they could hear exactly what I was thinking.

"But what then? We find the Itex branch that sent those Flyboys after us-then what? Demand a refund?"

"Iggy?" Nudge said, sitting on the counter. "Do you want to go after the Flyboys or not? Make up your mind! I personally think we shouldn't. I know things are really messed up right now, but maybe, oh, I don't know, we should take a break. It's only been a month since we last fought Itex, after all. Don't you think we deserve a break?"

Everyone in the Flock started talking all at once, about what they think we should, and why. It was enough to make anyone want to bang their head against the wall.

"Enough," I exclaimed, rubbing my forehead. "Look, Nudge. I know you deserve a break-we all do-but that's not the question. The question is whether we actually have a choice in this."

Iggy snorted. "Because the whitecoats are all about giving choices. Of course."

I wasted one of my patented Death Glares on him. "Still...there's something I don't like about this. The Flyboys look weird, for one. I don't know why, but they do. And even more, they ran away after that one Flyboy bit Fang. At the same time. What Flyboy backs away from a fight, and at the same time as its buddies, even? They're not built to be that way."

"I know," Gazzy chimed in. "It's weird. Maybe the whitecoats have decided to change things up a bit, to confuse us?"

You know what's sad? When a eight-year-old begins to talk life-and-death strategy, that's when you know things are beginning to get out of hand. And it's even worse when what they say actually makes sense.

"Well, the whitecoats have done something to the Flyboys, that's for sure."

"Are you sure? Maybe it's just adrenalin messing up your perceptions, or something," Iggy replied.

"No, Max is right." Everyone's heads swiveled to look at Angel, who was sitting calmly on the ground. Even Mom's, who I was sure was listening intently to our discussion to decide whether it was time to start panicking or not. Evidently, from her expression, it was.

"What do you mean?" I asked, curiosity piqued. But of course, this was Angel we were talking about, not some other six-year-old girl. She had a reason for everything.

"The Flyboys' minds weren't like before. Before, they're all just like 'kill', and 'capture', and things like that. Now, they almost actually thinking. Like, as if they're carrying out a plan or something. A plan they made up."

"Yeah, so what if they're Flyboy version 2.0, or something. The question remains: what do we do?" I didn't mean for that to sound as harsh as it did coming out of my mouth, but that's exactly what I was thinking.

"You were sitting on that for this whole time?" Iggy exclaimed. "You should have told us right away!"

"I thought you guys already knew," Angel sai, sounding small and quiet.

I smiled. "Don't worry. You did fine. Just tell us these kinds of things earlier, 'kay?"

Angel looked up at me and nodded. "Sure."

I looked at the rest of the Flock. Nudge was right-we all really needed a well-deserved break. Now if the whitecoats would ust comply with our wishes...

But hey. We've all been up for the whole night, and I could tell that some of the younger members-like Gazzy and Angel-were ready to drop. We needed to sleep.

"Guys, it's been a long day...I mean night. Let's go to bed and sleep for now, and we can talk about this better tomorrow, agreed?" I suggested.

A chorus of yeah's and sure's were heard, and everybody trudged upstairs to their respective rooms. Well, everybody except for Mom and I.

I wasn't quite ready to sleep yet. So much had happened in so little hours, I was far too jumpy to even think about lying down. And the words of the mysterious Flyboy-thing that had visited me were too clear. I mean, what if it was right? Then everything I've strived for in the past year has been for nothing, and everything I would ever do would just take humanity backwards.

And most of me believed that. Deep inside, I guess I knew I was never the person who would end up saving the world.

Searching around the room for something to clean up, for anything to do, my eyes landed upon a crunched up piece of paper on the ground.

It was Mom's rule list. I smoothed out the creases, and straightened the tape, rubbing my fingers over the many wrinkles and stains (of what, I didn't know, nor did I want to).

"Are you sure you're going to be alright?" Mom asked, from somewhere behind the counters.

"I'm going to be. Nothing good night's sleep won't fix," I lied.

"Okay, just...be careful."

Be careful for everything-be wary of your enemies, for there are too many. Be careful fo your friends, because you can never know what is going to happen next. Be watchful of yourself, for you can't know if what you do now will have an impact on your future. Be careful.

I stuck the rule list back onto the wall, tracing rule number 1 with the tip of one finger.

_Clean up after yourselves._

Well, the Flock has tried to, judging from the now clean(er) tables, doors and walls. But I was afraid that what we've started can't be cleaned up with a bottle of Lysol and a sponge.

* * *

Fang POV

I snapped my eyes open, and bolted up, searching around the room for shadowy phantoms only I could see.

After a while of eye-darting, heart-pounding panic, I calmed down and flopped back onto the bed, instead, staring at the ceiling.

I couldn't seem to sleep. Not that I would want to.

But why was I here? In this...bed?

Oh. Right. Max carried me to my room after I fell asleep. (I would never live that down.)

What else?

And...I had my arm bitten by...a Flyboy. Right. Flyboy. Thats right. That's why there is a huge aching pain in my left arm. That's why there are so many bulky bandages around it. That's why I fell asleep.

Right. I remember now. I remember everything.

I picked at the edge of the bandage absent-mindedly. Now, why was I awake?

A nightmare. Yeah, that's right.

What was wrong with me? I chuckled silently. That Flyboy must have knocked my head around a lot worse than I had thought.

Something flickered in the corner of my eye, and I snapped my head around, tense, ready to fight.

Oh. Ha. It was only a stray moonbeam.

Wow Fang, so jumpy, I chatised myself. Calm yourself.

And I lay there, in the darkness, trying to keep my nightmare under control. It didn't work. I ended up just trying to stay as still as possible, fighting invisible demons in my head, shivering slightly. Pathetic, not that I could help it.

And as I lay there in the darkess, one part of the nightmare kept coming back to me, making me relieve it over and over.

A malvolent voice, whispering from the inscrutable emptiness that surrounded me.

_Be mine... _

********

* * *

**R&R?**


	8. Chapter 8

Third person POV

Cold brown eyes studied the boy before him. The boy, either oblivious or uncaring of the scrutiny, leaned back into his chair and rested his dusty, bare feet on the desk.

"It's been such a long time since I last was here," the boy remarked, shaking long, pale blond hair out of his eyes. "This company was just a baby back then. Barely a fledgling."

Mr. Martinez just grunted.

The two were alone, in his office. The boy, relaxed, on one side of the table, the man, tense and nervous, on the other.

There was a knock at the door.

"What?" Mr. Martinez growled at whoever was outside irritably. Didn't his staff listen to his instructions? He thought he had explained very clearly. No interruptions during this meeting.

A young scientist, still wearing a white lab coat, shuffled nervously into the room. "The files you requested, sir," he sputtered, giving Mr. Martinez a thick yellow envelope before rushing out of the room as fast as he could, slamming the door behind him.

The boy paid no attention to this exchange, instead, staring up at the overhead light as if it were a brand new invention.

The staff was unnerved by the visitor, you see. As was Mr. Martinez himself, although he would sooner die then admit that.

Mr. Martinez supposed he had a good reason to be unerved.

It was the eyes, he decided. Palest blue, they seemed to hold all the knowledge and wisdom of the centuries. As cold as ice-no, colder-and filled with a muted vengence. Ancient knowledge in the face of a twelve-year-old boy, ruthlessness swirled among wisdom. Made up of colours so light, they were dark. The sheer impossibility was frightening.

And he supposed the boy himself was scary, in his own way. Dark tanned skin with pale hair that framed an angular face, thin and skinny body that he knew was incredibly strong. Clothed in tattered and faded clothing from a long-gone era.

Inhuman.

Every one of Mr. Martinez's instincts screamed that, and he guessed that that was true. But he needed the boy.

"So...why did you call for me, Martinez?" The boy fixed his strange eyes to his. "It's been so long...I thought the company forgot about me."

Mr. Martinez stared steadily into the lifeless eyes, trying to not show how shaken he was.

"We, the Itex branch of area 23, need your help in capturing six children. They're part bird, and have proved to be a difficult prey."

The boy snorted, his smirk slipping for a moment. "So you called me back, _now_, to find a bunch of escaped experiments?"

"They're not just that. They are extremely dangero-"

"No."

The boy stood up suddenly, slamming his hand to the desk between them, which shook and wobbled at the blow. "I waited two hundred fifty-eight years for this company to remember me," He said, eyes blazing, voice deadly. "Over two and a half _centuries_. Maybe for you, with your broken sense of time, that isn't anything. But because of you, I was trapped in a stone prison for all that time, while _you_ grew and prospered and forgot all about me. And now you come crawling back for me to fetch a couple of _experiments_? A dog with no brain and half a nose can do that! Tell me, what am I worth to you?"

Mr. Martinez blinked. The only sign of his growing panic was a slight tightening of his lips. "But for that, the blame must surely go to my predecessors? I haven't-"

"No, you haven't. But, your _predecessors_, as you call them, have not done anything either. No, it is the fault of the company for the way I am, and you, Martinez, you are a part of it."

Mr. Martinez swallowed. "But this is a good deal for you. Why refuse it? You can't go wrong with agreeing." He was aware that he sounded on the verge of begging on his hands and knees, something that never happened.

The boy sat back down. "Well, what do I get out of it?" He asked afer a while.

"Pardon?"

The boy leaned back into his chair. "What do I get in return for my services?" he said, louder this time, eyes glittering slyly behind bangs of pale hair.

Mr. Martinez answered without hesitation. "Your unlimited freedom, of course."

The boy sat more attentively and smiled, revealing long pointed canines. Mr. Martinez couldn't help but supress a shudder.

"It's a deal."

* * *

**Reveiw?**


	9. Chapter 9

**-hides behind table from angry readers-**

**This story hadn't been updated for weeks and weeks, and I'm so sorry! :(**

**It's just that I've been hitting a bit of author's block with this story, and my muse wouldn't let me stop working on an other story, and - **

**I'm sorry!**

**But I'm sure you don't want to read about my excuses, right?**

**So on with the (very belated) chapter...**

* * *

_How could you not see what was right before your eyes?_

* * *

Fang POV

Sunlight tore through my eyelids like a knife through paper.

Distantly, I could feel someone prodding me in the side.

"Yo, Fang. Get up already!"

I groaned, and shifted so that the sun wouldn't shine so brightly into my eyes.

"Fang! It's a freaking eleven o'clock! Get up!" Another prod, harder this time. "Even _Nudge_ is up. Do you want me to get her to yell in your ear? Maybe that'll convince you."

Nudge? Please, no.

With more effort than it should have taken, I snapped my eyes open. "No Nudge," I pleaded.

The Flock—and Ella—were standing around me. To my right, Iggy was laughing his head off, and Nudge whacked him in the arm. "That wasn't nice," she said.

I slowly sat up, and put a hand down to support myself. But instead of hitting soft blanket and bed like I was expecting, my hand unwittingly hit the ground.

I blinked, and looked around me again.

"Why am I in the hallway?" I asked, getting up.

Max shrugged. "That's what I wanted to ask you."

"Maybe he was sleepwalking," Iggy suggested, poking me in the arm. It was freaky how he could do that, seeing that he was blind and all.

Nudge looked at me curiously. "Are you feeling okay? You don't sleepwalk. And since when do you sleep to, like, eleven? Not even Total sleeps that late!"

"Hey!" Said lazy lump of black fur looked indignant as he glared up at her from his position at her feet.

Standing up, I swayed a little, resting a hand on the wall to steady myself. I frowned when I realized that whatever memories I had of yesterday were hazy, as if I were looking at them through a screen, and blinked at the sunlight that was suddenly seemed far too bright.

My arm burned dully, my head pounded with the beginnings of a killer headache, and I felt about as strong as a baby bird.

What was wrong with me?

"Are you okay, Fang?" Angel asked.

"'Course," I lied. "I just need a nice, long shower, that's all." I started down the hallway.

_Liar_. She accused in my head.

Oh. Right. Mind reader.

Already, the Flock was beginning to disperse, seeing as I was not dead or maimed or anything, so I left as well, pretending to not have heard her.

Inwardly, I was relieved that Angel didn't voice her thoughts out loud. The Flock was worried enough as it was with out _me_.

Outwardly, I tried to walk quickly-and, most importantly, normally-to my room. But I noted with dismay that I had to pause twice, leaning against the wall, panting, trying to catch my breath.

What was _wrong_ with me?

* * *

Max POV

Scowling, I slumped against the wall, hand to my forehead.

I'd almost prefer being surprised by Itex and running away on impulse to _this_. This _preparing_.

Angel wanted to bring her toys, particularly her second-hand teddy bear collection.

Nudge asked if she could pack some of her dresses.

Total wants to carry along a year's supply of food. 'To meet his refined sensibilities', or so he says.

And I made the mistake of relenting to Gazzy and Iggy's constant nagging, saying that they could make a few bombs _just in case_. Do I really need to explain why this was a bad idea?

Right on cue, a loud bang sounded from upstairs.

"I said connect the yellow and the red together, not the yellow and green!"

I groaned, and hoped that the damage wouldn't be too bad.

Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw movement from the kitchen. I tensed, then relaxed again as Fang came into view.

"You 'kay?" I asked. Fang seemed a little pale and wobbly. "You _did_ follow Mom's instructions and didn't strain yourself, right?" Who was I kidding?

Fang swiped at his face with a shaky hand. "Yeah…I'm fine. And I packed the emergency backpacks, just as you asked. Now what?"

I thought for a moment, then said. "Find the Flock and tell them to meet me in the living room."

Within two minutes, everyone was assembled and ready, sitting around the coffee table. That was how good the Flock was.

"Okay," I said, leaning forwards on the couch. "So basically, our emergency supplies are ready, right? Just in case any more Flyboys storm into the house, or ambush us, or anything."

Nods all around.

I took one bulging canvas backpack from the table and checked its contents. Clothing, food, materials, all seemed to be accounted for.

I closed it and leaned back, satisfied that we were on our way to being prepared.

"Good. Now-"

I stopped abruptly, as Fang kneeled over and fainted, right there, on the ground.

"Fang!" I shouted, echoed by the cries of the Flock.

I kneeled beside him, shaking him softly. "Fang!"

Then, his dark eyes flickered open and I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Fang! Are you okay?" I said as I stood up. "Fang?"

My brow creased as I regarded him thoughtfully. There was something…not quite right…

That's about when he leapt at me.

Instinctively, I brought up a hand to block a blow. I winced as my arm went numb when he hit it.

What's going on? That shouldn't happen—was he heavier than before?

"Fang!" Nudge shouted. "What are you doing?"

The Fang in question was moving to fight, limbs blurry in a fit of attacks. It was all I could do just to block them. I was normally better than him when it comes to hand-to-hand fighting, but now, he was slowly driving me back. Already, I could feel one wallpapered wall pressing into my back.

Was it just me, or did Fang's eyes flash red?

"Gmmph! Get off her, Fang! Are you crazy?"

Iggy and Gazzy were wrestling with Fang, who seemed quite capable of taking care of both of them single-handedly. I wriggled, but Fang's body effectively pinned me to the wall.

"Oof!" Iggy flew backwards into the couch from a blow from Fang. Fang grabbed Gazzy and punched him in the jaw, knocking him unconscious on the ground. Then, he turned to me.

Never let it be said that the great Max was scared. But, in that one second, I was.

This was _not_ the Fang we knew.

Fang leaned forwards, smiling in a sinister, creepy way he usually wouldn't have been caught dead in and…were those freaking _fangs_ I saw flashing in the bright afternoon sunlight? I know the boy's named after them, but…

I struggled wildly in his grasp. "Get off me, you idiot!" Why, oh why did he have to be taller than me? I couldn't see a thing aside from his black shirt.

"Get off her!" I got a brief glimpse of Nudge and Angel whacking his head with one of Mom's heavy dictionaries they must have found under the coffee table.

That was all I needed to push myself off the wall and barrel him into the floor.

"Fang…" I gritted out, sitting on his chest and pushing with all of my birdkid strength in trying to keep him down.

"Max! What's going on?"

Oh, great.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mom and Ella rushing into the room, probably worrying that we were getting attacked or something. How right they were.

But right now, they'd only be a liability. This…this not-Fang brought down both Iggy and Gazzy and made look as if he were on a walk in the park. Mom and Ella wouldn't even be a cause for worrying in the way for him doing…

What was he doing?

Because I was sure this wasn't not-Fang randomly being rabid and biting everything in sight. There was something calculating and decisive in his attacks, as if he was systematically getting rid of the Flock.

Right now, he was jumping up, completely knocking me to the ground. He took no notice of my vulnerable position, though, but was glaring at Mom with narrowed eyes. He curled his lip and snarled—yes, he actually _snarled_. As in Crazy-Eraser snarl.

He shifted his arm slightly, and I saw part of the bandage on his arm loosen and slump off. Underneath, the skin was mottled purple and blue, somehow organizing themselves before my eyes into a long sinuous swirling and flowing design like one of those intricate tattoos you see in photos that look as if they took forever and a year to get done.

I tore my eyes from his arm. "Mom!" I shouted. "Don't do anything. There's something wrong with—"

Fang pounced.

Mom never had a chance.

The weight of him slammed her against the wall, and her eyes were starting to flutter close. Too late, I could feel myself running, running for her.

Fang pressed his face to her neck, and in one swift motion, tore Mom's throat out.

You know how whenever someone gets injured, somehow blood spurts everywhere?

Yeah. That happens, and more.

"Mom!" Ella shouted, reaching out for the body of her—of our—mother. I pinned her against the wall, shielding her from whatever not-Fang was planning on doing.

A raw shout ripped itself from Nudge's lips as she bounded forwards, hands outstretched.

"I don't know what happened to you, but you can't get away with it," she growled.

Fang turned towards her, and smiled, red blood staining his chin and dripping down his shirt. He dropped the lifeless body of Mom and bounded forwards, knocking Nudge to the ground. "To the contrary, I can," he said. "I can totally get away with it."

It was strangely horrifying hearing Fang's voice speak words that couldn't be his.

Fang—I mean not-Fang—stood up and stepped away from the fallen Nudge. He reached into the pocket of his jeans and drew out a small rod that was wrapped with what looked like brown paper.

Beside me, Angel paled. "No! Don't!"

What was it? I wasn't sure I wanted to know.

Fang unfurled his wings, ruffling the black feather around a bit. He smiled wider and shook the rod-thing in his hand. "Nabbed this from Iggy and Gazzy when they weren't looking. Thought it'll be helpful, don't you think?"

My eyes widened as I realized what it was. "No, please don't, not-Fang—I mean…"

"Not-Fang?" he mused, looking amused. "Probably appropriate. The Fang you know is dead." Not-Fang grinned, and smashed the rod against the wall. Instantly, bright-yellow flames burst from the wallpaper. "Goodbye."

With that, he smashed through a nearby window and took off.

For a moment, I stood staring at his quickly-receding figure, already a dot above the trees, not quite able to believe what just happened. The heat of the flames quickly brought me to reality.

"Guys! Get out! Out!" I screamed, grabbing Ella. I saw Nudge lifting the unconscious body of Gazzy, wobbling slightly under his weight. "Iggy! Ten o'clock, get outside, and straight up. Now!"

I jumped through the smashed window, aware that the flames of Iggy and Gazzy's bomb were spreading throughout the house. Flaring my wings, I leapt into the air, Ella shrieking in my arms.

The rest of the Flock followed.

I stared uncomprehendingly at the tiny dot on the horizon that was not-Fang for a second, then angled my wings for a nearby forest, the Flock and the burning wreckage of what was previously our home at my back.

* * *

**Not a particularily good chapter...**

**That was actually supposed to be shorter, but I've been such a bad updater that you guys _deserve_ a longer chapter.**

**Review?**


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